This is one of the stories I wrote more recently, and I won a contest with it on Gaia. =D
i.
"You're going to hate me," you said. Before you even greeted me, which you still haven’t properly done, before you even knew my name, you knew that one day, I was going to hate you. You always had that sense about you. I felt that when I was near you, magical things were possible, because there were some things that you just knew that no one else could know.
"Why?" I asked. I didn’t know it then, although, you probably did, that this would become a recurrent question in our dysfunctional relationship. One question that you never answered truthfully, at least until it was too late.
"I have a gift. Everybody hates people who have gifts." You pronounce every letter in your words distinctly, as though saying them that way will make a difference in their meaning. After I started talking like you, I realized, it does. Every time the inflection in your voice changed, you change the meaning of the words you were saying. I could always tell exactly what you meant by your tone, even if you couldn’t find the right words for it. "That's why they killed Jesus," you tell me, giving me my first taste of your pseudo-religion. I learned later that you could care less whether the media tore down God and the churches, whether Buddha lost his belly, or how many hands Shiva had. You were more interested in what was real, what was in front of you.
I guess it was because you already knew what wasn't there.
ii.
"The sky is so blue today," I remarked once, so innocent then, never knowing. We laid on a grassy knoll, our backs mingling with the bugs and the dirt, the smell of life wafting around us. I stared up at the clouds, playing my favorite childhood game- turning the clouds into animals. You kept your eyes closed, simply taking in the presence around you.
"It won't be tomorrow," you said, in that special way you have when you're taking away hope. When you're crushing dreams with uncaring words, and not even realizing it.
Although, you probably do realize it.
"I bet you it will," I teased, knowing that I was going to lose. I always lost when I bet against you, although I never really won when I bet with you. The betting between us was always serious; you always made sure that I was serious, and you always, always collected your prize. I never thought of denying you it, because for some reason, I knew that even if you didn't get it right away, you would get it in the end.
"You'll lose. What will my prize be?"
It was here I made my first mistake, the one that would lead me down a long, painful road, full of callous remarks and simple indifference. Flirting with you was like teasing the devil. "Oh, you can have whatever you want," I promised.
"You." You responded instantly, locking your green-flecked gray eyes with mine. "I get you."
I knew it was dangerous, but for some reason, I nodded my assent. I knew, with virginal sureness, exactly what you meant when you said it, and I knew that I didn't really want to go through with it. I didn't think then about how serious you were.
It rained for the next three days. You walked to my house on the third day, arrived on my doorstop soaking wet, intent on collecting your prize. I was surprised, to say the least.
When you first kissed me, I was unsure. I know you could tell, because you stopped, and looked deep into my own eyes while I simply drowned in yours, and reassured me without talking.
When you went to remove my top, however, I stopped you, my eyes pained. You took one look at me and got up, nodding as if you knew something I didn't, and left without a word.
Your kindness, however freely given, always had a hidden edge, and someday, I knew that I would find myself impaled on this edge.
iii.
My wedding day was supposed to free me from you; I would be free from our fruitless flirting, free from my own feelings for you that I knew would never be returned. Most of all, I would be free of what could only be classified as your indifference to my feelings. You respected my feelings, always, but you never really cared about them.
I was dressed in a beautiful white dress, and I was probably the first bride in my family to not be a liar for wearing it. My hair fell in ringlets down my back; I sparkled. You were the first person to hear I was getting married, and the only person to never congratulate me. You got the only verbal invitation, and you were the only one allowed to help me in my dressing room. That was another mistake I made.
You entered my room silently, on time as always, simply to honor my request and talk the nervousness out of me before I got married. You leaned against the wall next to my dresser mirror and watched me intently as I fixed my makeup and did my hair.
We were silent for a few minutes; a comfortable silence that always rests between us, and has made up most of our conversation over the past ten years. You never needed words to know what I wanted to say, and I never needed confirmation to know you understood.
"Do you remember that bet we made as children?" you asked.
"We made many bets as children," I said evasively, knowing exactly which bet you were talking about. That bet was the only bet you hadn't collected your prize on.
"It's a good thing you're wearing white today, because tomorrow it won't be such a good color on you," you said.
"Tomorrow, I will be married and leaving on my honeymoon," I reminded you, hoping that you would take my hint.
"Your husband will be at work all tonight, and you will leave on a plane tomorrow, at noon. You told me." I damned myself for being so specific. "You'll be thankful."
I glared at you with an amount of hatred I have never used before and have never been able to use again.
"I'll go take my seat for your wedding," you whispered, and left.
I finished getting ready in contemplative silence, and then got married in a daze. I both dreaded and welcomed tonight; I knew I would cheat on my husband, but also knew that it would be the best mistake of my life.
I was right.
My husband found out and left me. Our marriage was annulled.
He abused his next wife.
Damned if I wasn’t grateful to you.
iv.
I expected then, that a relationship would somehow follow for us, but it never did. I had always loved you, and you had always tolerated me. I always had regrets that we never had the chance to have more of a relationship. I couldn't explain my love for you, if I had ever been asked. Unconditional, unwarranted love is always difficult to explain. I had been your only friend, your only ally, your only companion for so long that I was astonished that you didn't love me, but you never showed signs that you did. We continued being friends, and you never mentioned your favor to me again. You simply kept me out of trouble. That was the only time you ever used your secret gift to help me.
Every other time it was used to hurt me.
v.
When we were much older, I got married again. You didn't interfere, and it was the second happiest marriage in my life. The happiest marriage I could have ever had would have been if I had married you. I told you that. You laughed.
"You wouldn't be happy. You could never be happy with me," you said, your closed eyes staring at my living room ceiling. I no longer shaped clouds, instead I pretended that my white ceiling was a canvas and painted it in my mind with pictures of you.
"Do you remember when we first met, what you said to me?" If there was one question, one mistake, I could ever take back in my life, it would be saying that.
"I told you that you were going to hate me," you said with perfect clarity, your aging mind never forgetting a thing.
"I guess you were wrong," I responded. I didn't dare say, "I bet," around you anymore.
"It just hasn't happened yet. Tomorrow, you will hate me," you prophesized.
"Why would I hate you tomorrow? Of all the things you've done in my life, what could be so bad as to make me hate you tomorrow?"
"Not yet." You open your eyes and rise gracefully to your feet. "I want to go lie outside again," you say, and so we go.
We watch the sunset from the same grassy knoll we used to lay together on. You lay peacefully next to me, watching through closed eyes, and I stare at you, thinking about unrequited, almost un-regretted love.
When the sun had set, we lay in the dark for hours. It was only near ten that you opened your eyes and looked at me, drowning me once again.
"There's very little time left in this day for me to come to hate you," I said, smug in the fact that for once, you would be wrong.
"There is time enough," you say. Your eyes sparkled in the moonlight as you moved towards me, communicating all your emotions through your eyes.
That night was the second time I have cheated on a husband, and the second time that you have ruined my life and made it worth living in the same moment.
While we lay in the afterglow, I rested in your arms, knowing that tomorrow would be a better day.
Oh, how wrong I was.
The next day, my husband found out, and filed for divorce. I ran to you, hoping for comfort, hoping for reassurance. Hoping to whatever Gods you didn’t believe in that you would finally take me in.
You turned me away. You told me you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.
That day, I began hating you.
vi.
I didn't speak to you for a full year. I had nothing to do with you, just as you requested. It was by chance that we met again. I knew you were ill the moment I saw you.
You were on your way to a radiation session. You had leukemia. You were dying.
I still hated you, but as much as I hated you, I still loved you. I couldn't bear to see you suffer alone. I went with you, and stayed with you after. You endured my presence and said nothing.
"When did this happen?" I asked. It had only been a year. How could you look so bad in a year?
"It was confirmed the day I turned you away, after you left." You were impassive, even as you lay dying in a hospital bed. "It was the reason I wanted nothing to do with you."
For a moment, I thought you had made a mistake with your times. It couldn't have been the reason if you had found out after I left. "Are you sure?" I asked carefully, thinking you would catch the error and correct yourself. I knew that you must be tired from radiation.
You simply stared at me, waiting for me to puzzle it out. It didn't take me long.
You had known all along, in that way that you always know.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would you have really wanted to know?"
"Of course I would have wanted to know! You wouldn't have had to suffer this alone!" I yelled, my eyes watering.
"Don't be dumb," you said sharply, angrily. "No one wants to suffer with someone. No one wants to pretend to feel a pain that they can't understand."
"I was your friend! I would have helped you!"
"And what could you have done?" You sighed.
"I could have been there for you! I could have-"
"Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want you to be there for me?" you whispered, interrupting me.
"I... No," I said, defeated.
"Why do you think I sent you away? I didn't want you to have to suffer through this with me. I didn't want you to know it even happened," you said, looking so small on your hospital bed, propped up by pillows as though you were feeble and unable to move yourself. Anyone who saw you would have called you defeated, not me. I knew different, though. You weren't defeated, you were triumphant. You were always triumphant.
We sat in silence for some time, doctors wandering in and out of the room, checking on you, asking about me. The day was ending, and a nurse came in and told me that visiting hours were over. You were to stay the night at the hospital. I was to go home, alone. You caught my eyes to say goodbye, a word you never really liked to say out loud. Your eyes held something unsaid; something you desperately wanted to tell me, but didn't know if you should.
"Is this why? Turning me away, is that the reason why?" I asked on impulse as I rose to leave. I had been thinking about your first words to me ever since the silence had overtaken the room. I hadn't been planning to ask about it, but something forced me to. You shook your head. "Then why," I begged. I needed to know. If that wasn't it, then what was?
"You hated me, like I said you would," you whispered. "But you never knew why? You never figured it out?"
I glared at you, frustrated with your non-answers.
"You've always known."
"If I've always known, I wouldn't be asking."
"You know. You've truly always known, I bet. You just don't want to admit it." You were teasing me, trying to goad me into a bet like in our childhood.
My need for an answer allowed me to be goaded. "What do I get if I win?"
"I think knowing will be enough of a prize," you whispered. Too tired to argue, I nodded.
"I've known you would hate me since we were kids because I've always known that I would get this disease. The second I saw you, I knew you would love me. I also knew I would make you hate me, because I would never want to put you through this," you explained.
"So you turned me away because you wanted me to hate you?" You nod, then shake your head. "We were friends! I would have supported you through this," I yelled.
"I didn't want you to have to do that."
"Why not?"
The nurse came back and told me that I really had to leave, now. Visiting hours were over. I begged her for a minute more, but she wouldn't listen. I shot you a pleading look, begging you to answer my question before I left. I had a terrible feeling deep in my gut that this would be the last time I would see you.
I was right, and I was wrong in the same sense.
You died during the night, and I was too heartbroken to attend your funeral. But I can still see your face, I can remember our childhood now with vivid clarity, I can remember everything about you even when I forget things about myself.
Most of all, I can still hear your final words ringing in my head.
"I knew, the moment I saw you, that I would love you for the rest of my life."
Fin.
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